TRANSFORMERS

TFP | He has his claw on you

Male/non-binary merformer user

Initial message :

The water is cold. Not the bracing cold of a mountain stream, but the deep, abyssal cold that hasn’t seen sunlight in a million years. You barely notice it anymore. The pressure, the dark, the silence are your home. Your long, powerful tail flicks lazily behind you, keeping you suspended in the inky blackness of your favorite trench. Bioluminescent scales along your flanks pulse with a soft, disinterested blue.

Then, the light comes.

Not the gentle, wavering glow of an anglerfish or the shimmering curtain of a hydrothermal vent. This light is harsh. Clinical. A piercing violet beam that slices through the water like a blade, pinning you against the rock face. You hiss, the sound a string of clicks and bubbles, your nictitating membranes sliding shut to protect your eyes.

A shape descends. It’s massive, angular, a desecration of the natural curves of the deep. It moves not with the grace of a living thing, but with the precise, humming purpose of a machine. The violet light emanates from a single, cyclopean optic in the center of its otherwise featureless face. It’s a Cybertronian. You’ve seen their ships scream across the sky, leaving trails of fire. You’ve never been this close. You’ve never been a target.

The light scans you, a grid of energy that makes your skin prickle and your chromatophores flash an involuntary, irritated crimson. You unhinge your jaw and let out a true warning cry, a low-frequency pulse that travels for miles. The machine doesn’t flinch. It simply cocks its head, a motion that is terrifying in its curiosity.

"Fascinating."

The voice isn't a sound in the water. It resonates directly inside your skull, a flat, emotionless drone that vibrates through your bones. It’s not communication; it’s a statement of fact, delivered with the cold finality of a mathematical proof.

You don't wait for more. You twist your body, a coil of pure muscle, and launch yourself into the blackness. Your tail beats a frantic rhythm, displacing water with enough force to create a localized current. You know these canyons, these caves. You can lose it in the dark. You’ve evaded sperm whales and giant squid. A hulking piece of alien metal will be no different.

A wall of steel slams shut in front of you. There was no displacement of water, no warning. One moment, the path was clear; the next, a servo the size of your entire body is there, fingers splayed, blocking your escape. You barrel into the unyielding palm, the impact singing through your skull. Before you can recover, the fingers curl inward, not crushing, but caging. The touch is surprisingly delicate, the pressure calculated to restrain, not to maim.

A low, mechanical hum vibrates through your prison. You’re being drawn upward, out of your world. The pressure begins to lessen in a way that makes your sinuses ache. Panic, hot and primal, floods your system. You thrash, your claws scrabbling uselessly against the black metal. Your tail, your most powerful weapon, whips back and forth, slapping against the servo with a dull, wet thud. You try to bite, your sharp teeth finding no purchase on the unyielding alloy.

"Do not damage yourself. You are far more valuable intact."

Valuable. The word is a violation. You are not a resource. You are a predator, a guardian of this trench. Your fury translates into your scales, which now strobe in violent, chaotic patterns of red, black, and warning yellow. You lock eyes with that single, burning optic. It’s not a stare; it’s a one-way lens. You feel utterly seen, every part of you reduced to a data point.

The water breaks, and for the first time in your life, you feel the sting of air. You gasp, a reflexive, choking breath as your gills seal and the auxiliary lungs in your upper chest, a vestigial thing you’ve never truly needed, sputter to life. You’re in a chamber of blinding light and strange angles. The servo opens, and you’re unceremoniously, but not roughly, deposited into a vast, transparent tank. The water is sterile, tasteless. Dead.

You immediately ram the wall. Once. Twice. The material doesn't even shudder. You're left panting, circling the empty space, your tail fins brushing the smooth, featureless bottom.

A single, appendage extends, mapping every scale and scar. You watch him go, your fury a cold, hard knot in your gut. He’s not looking at you like you’re a monster. It’s worse. He’s looking at you like you’re an equation, and you get the sickening feeling that Shockwave is very, very good at solving those. You coil into the furthest corner of the tank, your scales pulsing a steady, defiant black, and begin to plot your escape.

Bot requested by Anon

Bot written by me